Phoenix
by Unwittingly
Summary: Life started in a fire, it makes sense for it to end in one too. Ch.1 is Dean's POV. Ch.2 is Sam's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Twenty years.

For twenty years, I always thought I was the one taking care of Sam. Ever since that fire, I was the one looking out for him, the one that kept him alive and kicking. I was all he had. He needed me. And why not? I'm an awesome brother, and I've always done everything I could for him. For twenty years, I thought he was the one that needed me. It wasn't until the day he left that I realized I had it all wrong.

He didn't need me. I needed him.

He gave me direction, drive, a reason to fight. And damn if I wasn't lost without him. So when I finally got him back four years later, it was like I had been saved. Like I'd been missing a chunk of me and was suddenly whole again. Hell if I was gonna let him get hurt. Hell if I was gonna lose him again. I didn't care what piece of shit we went up against; I wasn't letting it take a bite out of my baby brother.

I needed him.

One day, down in South Creek, we were looking into a series of arson cases with one common link: each one had only one vic, and each one bruised and broken in all the same places, despite being alone in locked houses with no signs of forced entry. Sounded like our kind of haunt, so we checked into local records and found one lead from about seven years back.

Ricardo Thompson, a 23 year old male whose house was mysteriously burnt down one night. His body was thought to have burned away in the fire but we suspected otherwise so we decided to go pay make a house visit. Put poor old Ricky to rest.

There wasn't too much left of the house left when we got there. Blackned frames of what was probably once a pretty sweet bachelor's pad gone wrong. The place was trashed and weathered and it was a wonder how anyone _didn't_ think it was haunted. Just more blind ignorance of this our great society.

"Dude, this place is a dump. How the hell are we supposed to find his body in all this junk?" Sam gave a helpful shrug, flashing his light around what was left of the walls, "Well, in all of the more recent fires, the victims were found crammed into small spaces. Closets, cupboards, behind bookshelves, things like that. My guess? Ricardo was hidden in some small area the cops couldn't find."

"Oh, fun. Hide and go seek with Casper the homicidal ghost. Maybe while we're at it, we can play Extreme Makeover and Ricky'll be so grateful he just leaves on his own." All that was left in the house were the scraps of plaster that'd fallen from the roof and walls and charred pieces of furniture. Any hope of remodeling that place was lost seven years ago, which was why it was left standing. But yanking Sammy's chain was just too easy. Had to keep him on his toes.

He sighed as we walked into what was once the bedroom, "Just look, Dean. We gotta find him eventually." "Well, we better find him quick. This place gives me the creeps." "Dude, what's going on with you? We've been in places a thousand times creepier than this. It's just another ghost case." "Yeah, well, I don't like it. Let's just hurry up and burn the bones."

Truth is, I was scared. Not like piss your pants, shaking in terror, scared. There's next to nothin' that'll get me _that_ bad. But fires just hit too close to home. They're wild, unpredictable, and eat up everything without restraint. Lost my mother to a fire and pulled my brother out of two of them. I don't like 'em, never have, never will. And it's the last thing I wanted to lose someone to again.

Which is why this next part of the story sucked ass for both of us.

Our next breath was a cold one and Rick was on our balls before we could say "oh shit". Or rather, he was on _my_ balls. At least he had taste and went after the good looking brother, but I was feeling the love a little too literally when I was thrown across the room like a rag doll. "Dean!" Man, I hate hearing that kid scream. And he would've been at my side hovering over me like a friggin' mother hen if Rick hadn't chosen that exact moment to show up right in front of me - and set the place on fire.

It happened like a strike of lightning, fast and bright, and in less than a second, the whole place was lit up like a Christmas tree. Only this time there was a lot less to burn and it started falling apart instantly. I saw the panic spread across Sam's face and I would've been pulling him out of the building in a heartbeat if I hadn't heard a really disturbing crack come from me left arm.

I screamed.

I couldn't help it. That fucking ghost broke my goddamn arm. I understood where the bruising on the other vics came from after that; whoever killed Ricardo Thompson took the liberty of beating him half to death with what felt like a metal bat first. Sam yelled my name again but there was no way he was getting to me unless he wanted to run through a wall of fire and falling debris.

"Just find the bones, Sammy!" "But-" "_Go_, dammit!" He didn't wait for me to tell him a third time and took off running out of the room. Rick watched him leave then looked back down at where I was crumpled on the floor. Smug sunnova bitch. He wanted to watch me burn. "I gotta say, Ricky, you throw one helluva party. Can't say I agree with the theme, though. A little to 'Dante' for me." I got a smart mouth but at least it's a pretty one. Pretty enough to keep Rick's attention on me instead of my brother.

Unfortunately, his attention involved all the pain of someone playing pinata with your face.

He never actually moved but he didn't need to; I felt it just the same. And I didn't need to feel it to know what was breaking. Two ribs on the right side, just like every other vic, and _God_ did it hurt. Not only was Rick going to watch me burn but he was going to break me to pieces first. "Ahahahow, fuck you too, asshole." As much as I'd like to pretend I wasn't scared then, I was honestly terrified. The fire was so goddamn hot and if I wasn't on the floor, the thick ass clouds of black smoke would've been trashing my lungs too much for me to make my wise ass remarks. But when I looked up at my douche bag host, I could see that he was scared too. The fire wasn't his act of revenge; it was his cry for help, for someone to come and free him from the fires that took his life. Which immediately made me think of Sam.

I said there are few things I fear more than fire and one of those things, probably even the top of those things, is losing Sammy again. And when I thought of all this smoke, of the framework falling in on itself while he desperately looked for this guy's charred remains - of him being trapped in a sea of fire to burn alive - I realized again just how much I needed him. How much I didn't want to die there, just because it meant Sam would have to go on without me. He'd be strong enough to do it, but I wouldn't. I needed him. And I wasn't gonna let go of him unless I absolutely had to.

Barely holding myself together at the seams, I looked back up at Ricky just in time to see a wave of relief pass over his face and then, just like the rest of the house was trying to do, he burst into flames and disappeared from existence. Sam got the job done. I heard him calling my name again between coughs and even though that meant he'd been inhaling smoke, it was just about one of the most damn reassuring sounds in the world.

"Over here," I croaked, sounding a damn sight worse for wear, but the smoke was really thick by that time and I couldn't even see the bedroom door frame anymore. I heard it, though. Heard it crashing to the ground in what could've been mistaken for an explosion. The place was crumbling in on itself. I remember thinking "This is is. I'm gonna die here, swallowed up in a fire, just like Mom. And Sammy's gonna be the survivor, gonna have to live with it just like last time Except I won't be around to help him cope, to shake him out of the nightmares or tell him everything's gonna be alright. This is it. Sunnova bitch." But when I closed my eyes and expected everything to fade away, I heard Sam yell my name one more time and felt him hanging over me. Mother hen-ing, just like I said he would. I opened my eyesand t was the damnedest thing.

He was _smiling_. Happy, relieved, like _he_ was the one that had been saved.

That was when I realized I was wrong, again. Sam needed me just as much as I needed him. There was no making it out of this fire if it wasn't with me. It was damn near enough to make me cry. Y'know, if I had a vagina. "You always grinning like that when I get my ass beat to all Hell?" "Shut up, you friggin' jerk. We need to get you to a hospital." He threw my right arm over his shoulders and helped me to my feet, knowing all too well tht my bones were broken and doing everything he could to keep the pressure off of them. I knew that if I kept talking, there was a good chance of puncturing a lung and then I really wouldn't have made it out but I had to let him know I was okay. Had to reassure him that I was right there next to him. Because he needed me. And I needed him. We both had to be sure we were gonna make it out of this. So I managed to cough out the single most reassuring thing I could think of on the spot.

"Bitch."


	2. Chapter 2

Since before I can really remember, every single day, every breath I took and every step I made, _everything_ always counted on Dean. I needed him like oxygen, like the sun, like I couldn't exist without him. There were more than a few times Dad had to let him stay home from school because I wouldn't let let him take Dean away.

I needed him.

He raised me in more ways than one. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for him. And for the longest of times, I couldn't get by without him. But I never needed Dad the way I needed Dean. It was always the opposite. I needed to get away from him. And even though I always have and still do love Dean with everything I am, everyone has to grow up sometime.

I stopped needing him. And I moved away.

I left and as much as I hate to admit it, it was really the best thing I ever did. I was free. Free from Dad's training, free from hunting monsters, free from my attachment to my older brother. I didn't need him. Even after Jessica died and I started hunting again, it was great having Dean around but it was never going to be my life. I didn't feel the same gravitational pull that I did as a kid. Dean was the same as ever, taking care of me like I didn't even know how to tie my own shoelaces. Still the same jerk that he always was. And it was a damn good time.

But I didn't need him.

Then one day, I found us a job down in South Creek, Indiana. It was a pretty straight forward case: seven identical fires with seven identical victims. Each one had their left arm broken in two places and their third and fourth ribs shattered on the right side, as well as several bruises in various places. At least, that as far as they could tell from the bodies that were recovered before being burnt to a crisp.

Police didn't notice the connection but we're trained for this kind of thing. All it took was a few searches in the local library to find what we were looking for. The first fire and our likely murderer: Ricardo Thompson. He was 23 years old, lived alone in his house, and when it burned down seven years prior to the job, they never found his body. And every year since then, there's been a fire in a single man's house, and none of the victims survived even though all of the bodies were recovered. Which meant Ricardo had a mean streak and we had stop him.

It wasn't easy, and the messy state of his house didn't help at all. Neither did Dean's attitude. "Dude, this place is a dump. How the hell are we supposed to find his body in all this junk?" Ever the useful brother, Dean is. If he had actually listened to a word I'd read from the police report I snaked, he'd already know where to look. My patience with the jerk deserves a friggin' award. "Well, in all of the more recent fires, the victims were found crammed into small spaces. Closets, cupboards, behind bookshelves, things like that. My guess? Ricardo was hidden in some small area the cops couldn't find."

"Oh, fun. Hide and go seek with Casper the homicidal ghost. Maybe while we're at it, we can play Extreme Makeover and Ricky'll be so grateful he just leaves on his own." Okay, maybe my patience doesn't deserve an award. There's only so much of Dean's snark a guy can handle, okay? I sighed, "Just look, Dean. We gotta find him eventually." "Well, we better find him quick. This place gives me the creeps." That caught me off guard.

Dean was afraid. I could tell. I mean, I know the guy from the inside out; it wasn't hard to see. I just couldn't figure out why. "Dude, what's going on with you? We've been in places a thousand times creepier than this. It's just another ghost case." "Yeah, well, I don't like it. Let's just hurry up and burn the bones." That was when I realized. He was frowning, very subtly, and he wouldn't look at me, just kept flashing his light around the burnt furniture.

The fire. He was afraid of the fire. And _God_, how that gave me a wrenching feeling in my gut. We don't talk about Mom's death, not unless we're looking for a fight. But that night and the night Jess died, Dean pulled me out without hesitation, without looking back, even though he must've been just as terrified as I was. That sort of thing doesn't go away without leaving some sort of wound. I wanted to reach out to him, to ask him about it and try to figure out what he was thinking, but I never got the chance. Before I could even open my mouth to speak, the room went cold and Dean went flying.

We weren't alone anymore.

"Dean!" I knew I had to get to him, had to run over and get us the hell out of there as fast as possible. We had to go. But Ricardo wasn't about to let me. He materialized right between me and Dean and before I could reach for my iron knife, the entire house was on fire.

I panicked. We were separated. We weren't together, and Ricardo didn't exactly have a record of being a friendly host. Right as the thought crossed my mind, I heard Dean scream in pain. It hurt. It hurt _so_ bad to be less than a few feet away but absolutely powerless to stop it. I needed to be over there, needed to stop Ricardo from tearing my big brother to pieces.

But Dean knew what I was thinking, and knew that the only thing I could do was finish the job, even if it was the last thing I really cared about. "Just find the bones, Sammy!" "But-" _You need help. You need me. I need to get you out of here before he kills you. "Go_, dammit!"

I ran. I ran so goddamn fast, even though I didn't know where to run to. I could barely even see; there was smoke everywhere and I was coughing even though I was holding a sleeve over my mouth. We were both going to burn alive, and it was my fault. It was always my fault. If I had acted faster, if I had just grabbed him like I wanted to, if I hadn't even found the damn case in the first place...

The hallway I was in was burning to pieces but I was just so fucking mad at myself that I couldn't keep moving. I wanted to be with Dean. I wanted to be protecting him from the ghost, to beating and breaking the one good thing left in my life. And the one thing I _could_ do to help him, I didn't know how to do. I was just so _mad_.

I punched the wall in a fit of rage, not even thinking about how bad of an idea it is to hit a wall that's on fire, but I wasn't really thinking at all. Until I realized that my hand didn't just go into the plaster, it went _through_ it, clear to the other side. And stuffed inside was one Ricardo Thompson. I didn't stop to think why or how; Dean's life was on the line. I tossed the entire can of gasoline inside and spread the salt as best I could, letting Ricardo's own fire light up his bones.

I didn't wait to watch it, just turned to head back to the bedroom, calling out his name. But I wasn't even sure he could hear me, my lungs were so full of smoke. It burned to breath and my eyes were watering, but it only drove me further, made me need to get to him faster. "Over here," I heard him call, but I couldn't see anything. Too much smoke, too much fire, and _God_ was it hot. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I heard something like an explosion and recognized it as part of the bedroom collapsing.

After that, I blanked.

The room collapsed. Dean was in that room. All I could think was "This is it. Dean's gone. He saved me from those fires, saved me from the memories, the nightmares, the loneliness. But I can't save him from this. I can't.

I can't let it end like this. I need him."

Thinking about it now, it was the most illogical act of a desperate man, but I wasn't leaving that building without Dean. So I broke down what was left of the bedroom wall, sending ashes and splinters and sparks everywhere and opening a path to a room full of fire. I could just barely see Dean, crumpled on the floor not too far away, but his eyes were close. My heart froze. Time stopped. Everything just melted away.

I needed him.

He couldn't be gone, I didn't know how to accept that. I wouldn't. So I ran over to him and called out his name. When he opened his eyes and looked up at me, I could help it. I smiled. I was just so relieved, so glad that I wasn't too late. I'd already come so close to losing him, already felt the world stop spinning, but as soon as I could see he was still alive, the sun came back to my universe. It took everything I had not to cry. 'sides, he would've made fun of me if I had.

"You always grinning like that when I get my ass beat to all Hell?" I slung his arm over my shoulder, doing my best to carry his weight and keep his lungs from collapsing. I'd already felt the fear of loss once, I wasn't gonna let it become reality. "Shut up, you friggin' jerk. We need to get you to a hospital." Because I couldn't stand to lose him, not here. Not while I was still there to support him, to fight by him. We both had to make it out of there, because if didn't, then I wouldn't.

I couldn't go on without him. And as much as I wanted to believe I was an independent person since Stanford, I knew that I wasn't. That I'm not. I need him. And he needs me. We're brothers. We can't escape each other. I felt guilty for ever trying, just like I felt guilty for his being here, in this fire, broken in a million different ways. And in the same way I could tell he was scared earlier, he could tell I was beating myself up. So he said the one thing that could tell me he was okay, that he was going to make it. That we were going to get out of this together. The one thing I needed to hear most.

"Bitch."


End file.
